ief, not to themselves, but to their neighbours, their superiors,
their rulers.

Some time ago, a correspondent of ours, struck apparently with
the true cause of the evil--the tyranny of conventional
feeling--deprecated the emigration of those classes supposed to be the
most slavishly subjected to it, without having previously made a trial
of their energies. He proposed that every 'genteel' family, before
setting their lives and fortune upon the cast, should establish
themselves for a time in some solitary district of their own country,
remote from the comforts and conveniences of life, and try whether
their industry and ingenuity were of an available kind. He seemed to
be of opinion that in most cases the experiment would fail, and that
thus many an unfortunate expedition into the wildernesses beyond seas
would be prevented. We are of the same opinion, only we do not think
either the experiment fair or the result desirable. The very
atmosphere of our country is pervaded by a conventionalism which, as
is proved by what passes every day before our eyes, cannot be
counteracted by mere external circumstances. The family in question
would feel themselves to be only amateur Crusoes; they would be
haunted by the idea, that they were surrounded, at a distance of only
a day or two's travel, by the 'genteel' society of which they had
formed a part; and, above all, they would have the consciousness
perpetually before them, of being able to withdraw from the adventure
as soon as they lost heart. This last consideration of itself would be
fatal. Nothing rouses energy and strengthens determination so
effectually as the knowledge that we are irretrievably committed: the
climber of some desperate but possible steep is never safe till the
rope is cut beneath him; the crosser of a difficult ford is never sure
of completing the feat till he has

Stept in so far that, should he wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o'er.

The family, therefore, might fail in their experiment, and yet be
fully adequate to the struggles of actual emigration.

The humanitarians of the day, though full of a fine Crusoe spirit
themselves, seem not to recognise its necessity as a general
principle. They draw a distinction that has no existence in nature
between the classes they design to benefit and themselves, legislating
for their proteges in the fashion of a permanent providence. They know
that a very large part of the population must la